


It takes one (to break a heart)

by kazzlikethat



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Angst, Break Up, Canon Compliant, Hwanwoong centric, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Keonhee is there for like five seconds, M/M, Pre-debut, mentions of smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:42:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25844500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazzlikethat/pseuds/kazzlikethat
Summary: Youngjo finds him like that. Of course he does.(or, Hwanwoong decides it's not worth the risks)
Relationships: Kim Youngjo | Ravn/Yeo Hwanwoong
Comments: 14
Kudos: 33





	It takes one (to break a heart)

**Author's Note:**

> In my defense, Rawoong always makes me sad for no reason.
> 
> Thanks to the lovely [SunriseSeaMonster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SunriseSeaMonster/works) for beta reading this at 6am.

The night air is freezing. It gets into his lungs like a million tiny needles, sharp and merciless, and leaves his body in the form of gentle white fumes, like smoke. Except the cigarette in his hand isn't lit and it's humid from how long he has kept it there, between his middle finger and forefinger, hanging besides his body.

Hwanwoong has felt like this before, once or twice. Like the entire universe halts to a stop but at the same time accelerates and crushes itself into nothingness. If he was a little less self-destructive right now he would succumb to the urge to call for someone to pick him up. Gunmin would, if Hwanwoong asked.

But Hwanwoong is far from their dorm; he left and didn't stop walking until the already gloomy day merged into a dark haze, until the ice-cold wind contracted his neck painfully and he thought he would pass out. Hwanwoong stops at a playground. He finds refuge inside a vibrant red playhouse and hugs himself, grateful to be wearing a hoodie, even if it's by no means thick enough to keep him warm.

That was an hour ago. An hour spent looking at the words written on the insides of the playhouse, varying from childlike letters to elegant, from naive to straight up vulgar. He fumbles around his clothes searching for the lighter he swore he took with him before leaving, but it's gone.

Cursing to nothing in particular, Hwanwoong slides out of the house and into the dusty ground. His legs quiver, muscles sore from a week’s worth of practice, and as he makes his way to a convenience store, hand tightly closed in the money he happened to have in his jeans, Hwanwoong accepts the fact that he will catch a cold after this. No doubt.

The lights in the convenience store flicker, sounding dangerously close to shutting off for good. They cast random bursts of strong white light across the aisles, intense but weak. Hwanwoong stands in front of the coffee machine, staring and listing the options one by one in his head. He could use a hot drink. He also doesn't particularly like coffee.

Hwanwoong walks out with only a lighter, finds his way back to the playhouse, curling up on himself again. With a flicker of the lighter, Hwanwoong lights the cigarette — _Youngjo's_ cigarette — and brings it to his chapped lips. He stalls there, unmoving, considering, but eventually losing the fight with his subconscious and inhales.

It stinks. And it burns. And it actually tastes better than when he found it in Youngjo's lips.

When he exhales, he coughs, then laughs. And once he starts laughing he can't stop.

Hwanwoong's body shakes with the force of it, his stomach constricts, hurts, and the smell of the cigarette is awful but _so_ intoxicating. He laughs, and laughs, and laughs, and it's almost as good as if he'd finally broken down in tears. Almost, because Hwanwoong doesn't feel the sorrow seeping out of his body the way it sometimes does when he cries.

Youngjo finds him like that. Of course he does. Youngjo finds him shaking in the corner of a playhouse and looks at him with such concern and adoration – like even there, looking like a broken little thing, he still thinks Hwanwoong is precious – that Hwanwoong doubles over with another fit of painful laughter.

Hwanwoong laughs because he cannot cry for something that's never going to be. He half expects Youngjo to yell at him, for running away, for causing a scene, for making himself the victim he is not. Hwanwoong would deserve it, he thinks, for all those reasons and the million other ways he has consciously broken Youngjo's heart.

Instead, the heavy weight of a jacket falls on his shoulders and Hwanwoong shakes with a last chuckle before going completely motionless. Youngjo's dark eyes are staring intensely, so deep Hwanwoong wonders if he can actually see his insides, if he can tell Hwanwoong is barely holding onto himself, so close to losing his mind into a warm sea of nothingness. He is so close to slipping, leaving his body on autopilot while he hides.

Youngjo exhales shakily, “Keonhee is waiting for us in a cab, we need to hurry.”

It’s not what Hwanwoong wanted to hear. Not that he knows what he hoped for, but it was not this. He wants to hold on to his childish outburst and selfishness, he wants to _fight_ , and he is shaking his head before he can stop himself.

“Hwanwoong-ah,” Youngjo's tone is firm. It sends a shiver through Hwanwoong's body and to all his nerve endings, because it's still so sickeningly gentle that he feels bile going up his throat. “I won't talk, just please...”

Youngjo's eyes dart away but Hwanwoong is quick enough to catch the dark, raw, pain that flashes through his face. The exact same expression he saw hours ago when Hwanwoong pulled away and told him he couldn't do it, that he wasn't like Youngjo – who would give his all to a relationship with no future for the sake of love. When Hwanwoong told him, cold and determined, “I don't want us to put the whole group at risk for a whim, I can't.”

It's the same dejected, sour twist of his lips, from when he told Hwanwoong it's okay, “I understand.”

It's the glassy eyes that had guilt twisting in Hwanwoong's guts.

“I'm sorry,” Hwanwoong says, voice hoarse, because he can't remember if he said it before. “I'm really sorry.”

“I know,” Youngjo sighs. “The car is a block away, come on.”

Youngjo moves from the small playhouse door, giving Hwanwoong space to gather himself. _Always the considerate hyung_ , Hwanwoong thinks, bitterly.

As they walk down the street, Youngjo a little ahead, leading, Hwanwoong feels the last of his strength leave him. He is a shell of his usual self, a barely standing figure as he follows Youngjo's steps. Youngjo that listened to him in silence when Hwanwoong told him he'd had enough. Youngjo that smiled when Hwanwoong refused to kiss him this morning. Youngjo who after months of pining, of being led on by Hwanwoong's stupidity, has still not gotten angry with him. Youngjo who is in love with him.

Keonhee gets out of the car in a rush, walks past Youngjo to engulf Hwanwoong in a tight hug, which knocks all the air from the dancer's body.

“I could kill you right now,” Keonhee mutters to his ear and Hwanwoong can tell he is angry, even if he tries to mask it. 

He watches as Youngjo tears his gaze away from them, from Hwanwoong.

 _Me too_ , Hwanwoong thinks, _I'm angry at myself too_.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it! Kudos/Comments are highly appreciated!
> 
> [twt](https://twitter.com/isaklikethat)


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